Cracked
by Davan
Summary: A little ‘what if’ scenario about what it would be like if Hinamori lost her base in reality.


**AN:** A little 'what if' idea that hit me while Kellen and I were talking plot for her stories.

They were asking questions again, the same questions they asked the last time that they were here, in this room. She wasn't sure exactly when she had been brought here, she remembered screaming and blood and a terrified voice that sounded familiar and yet… but he had been screaming to. She was almost certain that it had been at her, but she couldn't remember.

Didn't want to remember.

Here it was safe, in her nice white walls. Once she had had a flowerpot by the window but she remembered breaking it… had broken its perfect wholeness into tiny pieces, tiny sharp pieces with beautiful edges, one in particular had been so nice and sharp…

Blood had dripped from her then to. Such a pretty color, red, deep, deep red, it made breath catch in her throat and for once blissful, i wonderful /i moment the pain cleared the fog in her mind and she had i known /i . Known what she couldn't remember, but it taunted her from the edges of her mind each morning and each night while she stared at the ledge that it had once occupied.

The took the flower pot away from her before she could find out just how much blood would let her remember herself. She had screamed then to.

Four walls. She had counted the steps once but that to had been sucked into whatever it was that took so much of herself. At least… that was what they told her, with their note pads and scribble lines that made no sense.

She didn't trust them. It was in their eyes, their postures, the way they walked and talked. They thought she was crazy, that was why she was in these walls, here, trapped.

She knew better, they were the crazy ones. They thought they were safe, here between whatever lines it was they had drawn. She could see that in their postures to, though she wasn't quite sure how she knew, but she did.

He was going to come for them to.

They didn't like it when she giggled like that, their eyes became wary, their postures tensed. So she giggled whenever she could at them. Let them know that she knew that their death was coming. Because she did, that was how it worked.

He had told her.

And he never lied, never ever. She knew that, hung onto it with both hands as tightly as possible. Her hands were strong, long hands, she stared at them a lot. She knew, could almost remember that once her hands had protected her. They would protect this memory because she didn't trust her brain to hold it close.

Didn't trust herself.

Surely didn't trust them.

Only him.

She giggled, loudly, and giggled and giggled…

They wanted her to tell them, to tell them about the blood, and the pain, and what had happened. How she could remember the dripping, dripping, dripping, and the pain… oh there had been such pain.

She could remember that to.

And screaming.

But she had already told them this, a hundred times, each day, each time they came. She knew that much. Could see it in their eyes and scribble marks, they were frustrated.

She kept giggling.

She didn't have to be frustrated. Didn't have to wonder. All she had to do was wait, wait, wait.

Her breath caught in her throat and she moved into a defensive position. He wasn't coming, coming, coming. They told her this… she couldn't believe them, couldn't, just couldn't.

Her hands curled around her knees and she registered a keening noise. Her throat hurt. It couldn't be from her… she was rocking, rocking…

He had left her, left her, left her to these white walls, scribble marks, and angry faces. He had left her, here, were she could do nothing to help him, nothing, nothing, nothing…

i Left her… /i

Cold hands were on her face, forcing her from her mind once more and she blinked up at the face, the face that she tried to so hard to remember… remember…

It was too much, too much, to much…

It was better to forget after all, than to remember how she put that look in those eyes, on that face, or why he used his cold, cold, hands to pull her back, back, back, back into the world with the white walls and where she used to have a flower pot…

Just best to not remember… never, ever, ever…


End file.
